Chapter Nine
SOPHIE
My words, now forgotten, die in my throat. The kiss burns, and I’m not even in control of my hands as they fist the front of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer to me. His hand is hot on the back of my neck, his grip firm but gentle as his thumb presses right under my ear.
I haven’t been kissed like this since… fuck. I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like this. His mouth dominates mine, his tongue demanding immediate entrance. I comply, sinking into the warmth his touch brings, awakening feelings within me that have been long dormant.
His other hand moves to wrap around my waist, and his hard length presses into my stomach as he pulls me closer. I’m being claimed and consumed. So much so, it isn’t until he breathes “Sophie” against my lips that I snap out of it.
What the fuck am I doing? This is Carter. The man who ripped my heart out and stepped on it. I can’t let myself forget that.
My fists in his shirt turn to palms against his chest as I push away from him, breaking our kiss. He lets me go easily, his eyes a little glassy as he looks at me.
This can’t happen.
With our history, this can only end badly.
Shaking my head, I take a couple of steps back before turning around completely and leaving the rink.
It’s not until I’m driving home in my car that the reality of what just happened hits me.
Carter kissed me.
He didn’t just kiss me. He kissed me like his life depended on it. Like I was the air he needed to breathe. I remember it being good… but had it always been that good?
My fingers brush over my lips, still tingling from the force of the way he claimed me.
It’s not like I haven’t been with anyone since Carter left. I’ve been on a few dates and had a handful of hookups over the last nine years, the latter were always people passing through town. I couldn’t risk having a one night stand with someone I already knew. This town is too small and word gets around too quickly. Instead, when the need to relieve tension would arise, I’d hit Danny’s, hoping to find someone who would be gone the next day.
The encounters were often fumbled, awkward, or unsatisfying. Who am I kidding? They were all of those things, every time.
None of them ever elicited this kind of response from me. This burning coil of need ?—
Shit, I need a distraction. Any distraction. And possibly a cold shower.
But first, the distraction. Problem is it’s Sunday evening, and everything is closing. I can’t even stop anywhere for… shit. Dinner.
I completely forgot I’m supposed to have dinner with Tom and Jordan at my parents’ house. That’s something that I am not in the mood to deal with right now. I’d have to hear more about Carter. Mom would ask me questions, no doubt with an elbow jab and a wink. Jordan would talk about how cool it is he’s staying here, and I would be left red-faced, with the memory of that sinful kiss locked in my mind.
No, thank you.
Opting to head home, I shoot off a text when I park:
Me: Hey guys, sorry to miss dinner, but I have a pounding headache. I’m going to just stay home tonight.
Mom: Feel better, sweetie! Are you drinking enough water?
Dad: Love you, champ. Feel better.
Tom: *eye roll emoji*
Scowling at my brother’s text, I leave the group chat and send him a private message:
Me: *middle finger emoji*
Tom: *laughing emoji*
There’s no way Tom knows about Carter kissing me… right? No, he’s just being an ass. I haven’t directly asked him if he’s the one who told Carter about the rinks being in trouble, but I can fucking tell. He apparently kept in contact with Carter and never told me.
Tom’s so on my shit list for now.
Damn traitor.
My shoulders finally deflate when I walk into my house. At least with Tom and Jordan at my parents’, I’ll be home alone for a while.
Takeout sounds heavenly, so I go through the menus stuffed into a drawer in the kitchen. Almost every place I've eaten with Carter at some point. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem, but his close proximity and the memory of his kiss fresh on my mind has me flighty. None of these places will work. But at the very bottom of the stack… yes!
Pad Thai.
I only got into it a couple of years ago, so there are no Carter-related memories of Pad Thai Express. By the time the food arrives, I’ve flopped on the couch and have flipped through the channels on the TV at least ten times. Everything reminds me of that damn kiss. Rom-coms. Sitcoms. Even the documentary I found was on the relationship of Cleopatra and Mark Antony. Everything has some sort of love-story plotline in it.
A half hour later, the takeout container is empty, and I didn’t get to watch more than five minutes of one show or movie before something vaguely romantic happened or was mentioned.
Thinking of reading a book, I go through my bookshelf and curse myself for how many romance novels I have. Don’t I own anything more… platonic?
Checking Tom’s room, I can only find books on hockey. That’s equally unhelpful.
Maybe something… younger would be good. Does Jordan have like… Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew novels? I crack his door open, but immediately slam it shut when I’m met with a giant poster of Carter’s face.
Well, that’s new. But, of course. Favorite hockey player of all time and all that.
By the time eight thirty hits, my quest for reading material ends, and I decide to take a nice, hot, relaxing shower. I’ll go to bed early, and by the time I wake up tomorrow, all thoughts of Carter’s soft, demanding lips will be out the window and I can pretend like it never happened.
When Tom, Jordan, and I moved into this house, Tom gave me the master bedroom so I could have my own bathroom. While I protested, I’m especially grateful for it now since Jordan is at the age where clothes are all over the floor and their tub is lined with ten different body washes. I don’t think I’d have room for any of my stuff if I had to share.
The hot water envelops me like a steamy embrace, and I realize there’s no getting rid of the memory of that kiss. Not tonight, at least.
As I wash my hair, my mind goes back to the night we had sex for the first time. The way we danced at the championship game afterparty, then made out behind one of the lake cabins.
Then at my house, empty since my parents were out of town, he pushed me against the door once we were inside and kissed me. My hands move across my body as the memory overtakes me.
A moan escapes me as his tongue plunders into my mouth, allowing me to taste him fully. His responding growl sends heat down to my pussy, which is already clenching in anticipation. He shoves a knee between my legs, allowing me to grind my pulsing clit down on his clothed leg.
One of my hands dips down into my folds while the other grasps my breast. My fingers circle my clit, feeding the spark that’s been burning since Carter kissed me. Remembering the way he carried me up to my bed, slowly undressed me, and made me come on his fingers and tongue have me writhing.
“Oh, Carter.” My voice is breathless as he dips his fingers past my underwear, swiping through my folds. They swirl and tease over my clit at the same tempo as his tongue twirls over my nipple.
A moan escapes me as he delves two fingers into me, his thumb taking over my clit. The sensations build, sending me higher and higher until —
He withdraws his fingers and mouth from me.
“What are you —?”
“I want you to come in my mouth.”
Wordlessly, I nod as he pulls off my thong, settling in between my thighs.
“So pretty,” he breathes, staring at my pussy in wonder, “I’ve never seen it so close before.”
My cheeks redden at the compliment, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
He places a gentle, open-mouthed kiss on my folds, and it’s easily the most intense pleasure I’ve ever experienced. I inhale sharply, and he rumbles in satisfaction, his tongue taking over as he slowly circles my clit. I writhe on the bed, desperate for him to make contact with that one spot. Finally, he pulls my clit into his mouth, eliciting a deep moan from me.
Slipping two fingers inside of me, I lean back against the tile of the shower and rub the heel of my palm against my clit. I’ve tried so hard to not think of that night, but Carter’s kiss has brought back every memory. Every touch, the way he looked at me as he slid inside me for the first time. How sweet he was.
"If you want me to stop, just tell me."
“I won’t want you to stop.” My voice is barely a whisper.
He pushes forward, and I gasp at the intrusion, his thick length stretching me painfully. He stops when he hears me, breathing hard himself, “Is it too much?” I shake my head fervently.
“Just breathe,” he says, his arms trembling slightly as he continues to press into me. Once he’s fully seated, I take a few measured breaths until the burning sensation fades. I meet his eyes and nod, and he moves slowly, both of us letting out a low groan.
The burning sensation quickly fades, and he picks up his paces, his face burrowing into my neck. "You're amazing, Sophie," he pants, his breath hot on my skin. "So beautiful, so perfect."
I come with a small cry, my core clenching around my fingers as I ride the friction of my palm through the waves of my orgasm.
The memories don’t stop; they keep flooding in, reminding me of why I’m not going to let him back into my life.
I wake up to a glorious morning glow and a smile plastered on my face, despite the slight ache between my legs.
When I reach for him, hoping for a morning cuddle, all I find are cold sheets. Hm. He shouldn’t have had to leave yet. He said he would tell his parents he was sleeping at Jake’s.
"Cart?" My voice echoes the empty room. No answer. I sit up, rubbing my eyes and looking around, already missing the warmth of him next to me.
With a heavy sigh, I roll out of bed and throw on my panties and oversized sleeping shirt. I take a peek out the window and frown, noting his car missing from the driveway. Maybe he was worried about my parents coming home early?
I snatch my phone from the nightstand and see a text from him, relief washing over me.
Carter: Hey, beautiful. Last night was amazing. My dad was freaking out about something, so I had to go. Lunch later? I’ll text you by noon.
My thumbs work quickly as I reply:
Me: Sounds great. Can’t wait.
I watch the screen, half expecting it to buzz immediately, but nope, it just sits there, silent.
As the minutes tick by without a peep, my post-bliss buzz cools off, and I'm left with a growing list of questions. This isn’t how I thought I would wake up the morning after losing my virginity.
I had waited all day for a response, even going so far as to text Tom and see if he’d heard from him. It wasn’t until an hour after he was supposed to reach out that I took action. Something wasn’t right. Carter would never stand me up. The memory of when I got to his house is still imprinted on me like it was yesterday.
"Hey, Mrs. Williams," I start, trying to sound casual. "Is Carter around?"
Her face falls, and I notice her eyes are red and puffy like she’s been crying, and she’s still in her robe.
“Mrs. Williams," concern lines my voice, “is everything okay?”
Between the crying and Carter going MIA… something is seriously wrong.
“Sophie, sweetie, come inside.” She steps aside, allowing me through the front door.
“What’s going on?” I swallow, my nerves getting the best of me as I walk through the foyer and family room, and into their kitchen, a place where Carter and I have spent so many afternoons doing homework together.
Mrs. Williams sighs as she sits at the table, motioning to the seat next to her. Numbly, I sit, waiting for an explanation.
“Carter’s dad made him apply to Notre Dame last year. Carter didn’t think he’d get in. Last week, his acceptance came. His dad wanted to wait to tell him until after the championship game.”
“So… where is he?” My voice breaks, not fully understanding what she is saying. If he got into Notre Dame, wouldn’t he tell me? We were just talking about it last night.
“He technically has enough credits to graduate,” his mom says, her eyes tearing up. “Carter's dad… he wanted him to start now. I’m so sorry, Sophie. He thinks that if Carter waits, he won’t decide on Notre Dame because of his… well, his ties here.”
She doesn’t need to put a fine point on it. “You mean me. I’m the ties?”
And by ties, he means small-town girl who could supposedly derail Carter’s fast track to the big leagues.
Mrs. Williams leans closer, lowering her voice even though we're alone. “He forced Carter to leave weeks before he needed to, hoping the distance would... help him forget, I guess. Or at least not do anything rash like, I don’t know, follow his heart instead of a hockey scholarship.”
I'm trying to process this, the idea that someone’s dad would think I'm a distraction big enough to take his son across a quarter of the way across the country. Mr. Williams is not a warm man. I used to try to do everything in my power to break through his icy demeanor, but now I realize I never had a chance.
“I thought…” I can’t stop the words from leaving me, even though it’s the least of my worries, “I didn’t think Mr. Williams… hated me so much.”
“Oh, honey.” Her hand grapes mine on the table. “He doesn’t hate you. He just has… plans for Carter.”
“Plans that don’t include me.” My voice is quiet.
When she gave me the note Carter left me explaining what had happened, I had thought we still had a chance. He promised to make it work. “It’s you and me, Soph,” he had said.
What a load of shit.
What was supposed to be one of the best nights of our lives had turned into one of the worst.
Once I’ve dried my hair and got dressed, I crawl into bed. Tomorrow is a new day, and soon the rink will be rebuilt, and he’ll ride off into the sunset with whatever team he’s signing with this season.
We can meet occasionally to go over stuff for the Twin Rinks, but that’s it. We will have platonic meetings, and absolutely under no circumstances will I let him kiss me again.
Even if I really, really want him to.